


Once a Goddess

by Cinaed



Category: Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: Female Character of Color, Friendship, Gen, Women Being Awesome, Yuletide 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-16
Updated: 2010-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-13 17:17:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dour-faced man who came to interview Millie the morning after was from the Government.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once a Goddess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueyeti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueyeti/gifts).



> Thanks go out to the awesome dropsofviolet for beta-reading this for me!

_Self-preservation is a full time occupation / I'm determined to survive on this shore_

The dour-faced man who came to interview Millie the morning after was from the Government.

There hadn't been much mention of the Government in the Millie books, and Christopher's vague explanations when Millie pressed him didn't make things much clearer. She supposed this world needed some way of establishing law and order, not having the word of Asheth to follow, but the idea of _men_ being in charge made her laugh. When she imagined Mother Proudfoot looking down her nose at the man (who'd introduced himself at the castle's door as Mr. Brown), she laughed harder.

She smoothed out her expression before she entered Sir de Witt's study, where the enchanter and Mr. Brown waited for her. All hints of her amusement were tucked away behind the mask she had once worn as the Living Asheth when she went out into the city. Christopher had said it was best to be polite and formal with people from the Government, after all.

"Please, Millie, sit down," de Witt said. She couldn't read his expression as well as she had his younger version's, but she thought there was a hint of impatience in the way he gestured to a chair.

She sat, clasping her hands in her lap as Millie had in _Head Girl Millie_ , when the headmistress had called her into her office to announce her being made head girl.

"So, Miss...Millie," Mr. Brown said, frowning a little. Millie might have worried about his frown, only Mr. Brown had the pinched expression of someone who found fault with everything and whose smiles were few and far between. "I am told you come from...." He shuffled his papers. "...Series Ten?"

"Yes," said Millie, politely enough.

Mr. Brown waited, as though he expected Millie to elaborate. When she didn't (how _did_ one elaborate on a yes or no question?), he cleared his throat. "And you wish to become one of Gabriel de Witt's wards?"

Wish to be? Millie fought the urge to frown and kept her Living Goddess expression on. Why was this man from the Government acting as though there was a possibility de Witt _wouldn't_ take her on as his ward? Surely the Government couldn't object. She glanced at the enchanter, but his expression stayed unreadable.

"He made an agreement with Mother Proudfoot, that I would live here and go to school," she answered. If Mr. Brown had not been so dour, she might have elaborated, told him about how Christopher had brought her the Millie books and, in doing so, changed her fate. Instead she bit her lip and fell silent.

"Yes, yes, so he has told me," Mr. Brown said. "You must be aware, however, that this poses a few...difficulties."

"Difficulties," Millie echoed flatly. "No, I am not aware, actually."

"Your series is, er, not on the best of terms with ours," Mr. Brown said, looking awkward. This time when he shuffled his papers, Millie rather thought it was to avoid her gaze. "Or with any of the series, to be honest. Asheth does not tend to approve of, ah, outsiders or unbelievers."

'Of course not,' Millie wanted to say. 'Asheth is the goddess. Why should she put up with disbelief or any sort of insult from men like _you_?' She knew this wasn't polite, however, no matter how true.

She thought of Christopher's warning for a moment, about being respectful and not antagonizing anyone from the Government. Then she cleared her throat and attempted a sweet, surprised tone. "Hasn't anyone explained? My becoming a ward of Sir de Witt was part of an agreement between the head priestess of Asheth and your Chrestomanci. Asheth will not feel slighted that I am here." The last part was probably not true-- Asheth had taken a life for Millie's affront and her escape, after all, but somehow Millie doubted telling Mr. Brown that would help her cause.

"As I told you, Edward," de Witt said-- rather tiredly, Mille thought. "This will not be the cause of an inter-series uproar. There is no reason for the Ministry to concern itself. In fact, it might even do well for us, having a former Goddess of Asheth here."

"Oh?" Mr. Brown's tone made it clear he doubted that very much.

Millie would have bristled, but she was too struck by the former Goddess comment. It hadn't really sunk in that she was no longer the Living Asheth. The realization settled into her stomach like a hard weight, and she pressed her hand there, wondering why she felt a little ill. Excitement, she decided. It was excitement that currently twisted her stomach into knots, as well as the thought that she was truly going to a boarding school, where she'd take exams and cheek the prefects and do very nearly everything Millie did in the books.

"She is already a close friend of the next Chrestomanci," de Witt was saying when Millie forced herself to refocus on the conversation. "And she has quite a talent for magic herself. She shall be an excellent ally of Christopher's when he takes my place."

"I see," Mr. Brown said, in a way that meant he didn't. He gave Millie a worried sideways stare. "And what do you plan to tell the boarding school? She doesn't have a last name, and she is very obviously not from around here. Begging your pardon," he added, as though he'd said something Millie might find offensive.

Millie bit back a sigh. She'd assumed upon first meeting Christopher that he was an aberration with his pale skin, but since coming to 12A, she'd begun to suspect _she_ was the unusual one, at least in this part of the world. Most of the Castle's servants had pale skin, varying from milk-white to a pale brown shade. Only Tacroy and one of the boot boys looked even a bit like her.

"We shall say she is the daughter of one of my distant cousins, who have both been living in Atlantis," de Witt said. He nodded towards Millie. "You have your choice of surname between Carol and Ashworth, young lady."

"Carol," Millie said instantly. Ashworth was too close to Asheth; even if the goddess had been appeased by de Witt's life, Millie was not taking any chances on drawing Her attention again. Besides, Millie Carol had a nice ring to it.

"Very well," Mr. Brown said at last. "I will draw up the papers for Millicent Carol."

" _Millicent_?" Millie yelped, quite unable to help herself. She imagined Christopher's expression upon hearing that her official name was Millicent, and couldn't prevent her look of utter horror. Christopher would mock her for the rest of their _lives_.

"You don't like the name? It was my grandmother's," said Mr. Brown, looking startled and a little injured. When Millie's expression of dismay didn't change, he sighed. "Mildred, then."

"Just Millie will be fine, thank you!" Millie said, rather hurriedly. She gazed beseechingly at de Witt and was startled by the smile on the enchanter's lips. It was a creaky, faded smile that was gone as quickly as it'd come, but it had been a smile, full of sardonic amusement.

"Millie suits her, I think," he said dryly. "She does not seem to me a Millicent or Mildred."

"If you say so," Mr. Brown said, seeming inclined to sulk at the firm rejections of the names. "Millie Carol it is." He rose to his feet, nodded first to de Witt and then to Millie. "Good day to you, Gabriel. Good luck, Miss Carol."

Millie watched him go. As soon as the door shut behind him, she dissolved into laughter. She pressed her hands to her mouth to muffle the sounds, but she didn't think the gesture did much good, judging by the way de Witt's eyebrows rose.

" _Millicent_ ," she repeated, laughing. She turned a relieved smile upon de Witt. "Thank you. I pictured Christopher learning my name was Millicent or Mildred or something equally dreadful and couldn't bear it."

"You're welcome, my dear," de Witt said. He paused a moment, as though about to say more. Once again she tried to read his gray severe face and failed as he nodded towards the door. "Now, I believe Christopher is waiting rather impatiently for you to come out and tell him how the interview went."

"Oh, yes," Millie said. She stood, and then impulsively hugged de Witt. It was not the most comfortable of embraces, but she gave it her best. The enchanter was all elbows and skin stretched tight over his bones -- she would have to see about getting him and Christopher properly fed.

"Thank you," she said into his chest, a little tearfully. "For everything."

"If you are quite done with this embarrassing and quite uncalled for display of affection, Christopher seems to be about to use a spell to barge into my office and see what is taking you so long," de Witt said. He sounded unruffled, but when she pulled away, she saw a pale flush on his cheeks. Even his ears seemed a bit pinker than usual.

"Yes, sir," she said, blinking the tears away. Then she dashed out of the room, to where Christopher was waiting.

**  
**

 _I bet you're wondering if the goddesses are all crazy / or just keeping it interesting  
situated slightly outside society / at odds with its odd offerings_

The night before Conrad went back to Series Seven, the entire Castle threw him a party.

Millie had spent a whole month putting everything together; Christopher had done the distracting by being his usual self and driving Conrad half-mad.

She beamed with pride as Conrad shouted with delight and astonishment, obviously taken aback by the yells of "Surprise!"

"I wish I could take a picture of your expression right now," Millie said as Conrad gaped at everyone and everything.

The entire yard was decked out with tables covered with food and brightly packaged presents. There was even a banner put up at Flavian's suggestion that said, 'Good-Bye and Good Luck, Conrad!' Millie noticed Christopher looking thoughtfully at the banner every once in a while. When she did, she sighed and glared at the banner as well, until the name sheepishly switched from Grant to Conrad.

"Bother you then. It's a _joke_ ," Christopher said, a little sulkily, after the fourth time she'd changed it back.

"It was funny for the first month or two, Christopher," Millie said patiently. Next to her, Henrietta was trying not to giggle. "But it's been six _years_."

"Oh, go on, leave it as Grant," said Conrad. He looked so full of goodwill, yellow-brown eyes bright with happiness, that Millie laughed and gave in, ignoring Christopher's smug look as the letters twitched and rearranged themselves permanently to Grant.

"Open your presents," Elizabeth demanded, clapping her hands.

"Before the cake?" Conrad said, looking hungrily at the cake Millie had made. She was quite pleased with it, even if the first three tries hadn't gone so well.

"Yes!" Elizabeth and Jason cried, laughing.

"Perhaps a slice of cake first," Christopher suggested. He also eyed the cake.

Millie glanced at Gabriel to see what he thought, but he simply smiled his tight-lipped smile at her, as though it was her decision. No doubt it was. Somehow, without quite realizing it, Millie had found herself the mediator of the arguments that went on among the younger magic-users at the Castle. She was constantly making Jason apologize for whatever he'd said that'd made Henrietta curse him with warts, or dragging Christopher away when Elizabeth looked torn between laughing and blackening his eye.

"It _is_ Conrad's day," she said at last. "Let's have the cake first. Then presents." As Conrad grinned in anticipation, Millie stared hard at the cake until each candle caught fire.

"Nice," Conrad said with an admiring look towards the flickering blue flames. "This is more like a birthday party than anything else," he announced. "I'll just blow out the candles then--"

"Don't forget to make a wish," Christopher said, very quietly so that only Millie and Conrad could hear. Christopher wore his earnest expression now, the one that most people thought meant he was being sarcastic.

Conrad shot him a curious look, and then shrugged. "All right," he said. "Made my wish." He drew in a deep breath, so that his cheeks bulged and both Henrietta and Elizabeth giggled, and then blew out the candles in one quick exhale.

"Good," Christopher said, looking very satisfied with himself.

Conrad was obviously wondering why. He glanced over at Millie.

She smiled and shrugged. _She_ wasn't going to spoil Christopher's surprise. She reached for the knife instead, ready to give Conrad the first slice.

After they'd eaten their fill of cake, Henrietta all but shoved a present at Conrad. "Open mine first!" she demanded.

Conrad laughed, but obediently unwrapped hers, making noises of appreciation at the smart new gloves.

"Fur-lined, of course," Henrietta said, beaming. "Christopher mentioned how cold it is in your English Alps."

"Thank you," Conrad said. Then he grinned and reached eagerly for the next present. He had plenty of them to get through. Even his sister had sent one all the way from Series Seven-- it was a beautiful, handmade jacket. When he tried it on, it brought out the yellow in his eyes, making them look almost golden.

"Anthea will go places with her fashion designs, Conrad," Elizabeth said admiringly.

Next Conrad reached for one of the largest boxes, the one Millie had spent a good half-hour wrapping. Millie tried very hard not to flush as Conrad opened the box and let out a howl of mirth mingled with delight. "You didn't!" he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "And first editions, too!"

"What on earth did you get him, Millie?" Christopher demanded, half out of his chair trying to see into the box. Then he too laughed and pulled one of the books out. " _Millie and the French Tutor's Secret,_ " he read off the cover, and shook his head."I should have known. You two and your books."

Conrad and Millie grinned at each other, united in mutual delight. That first month when Millie had been bedridden and miserable from the flu, Conrad had smuggled her in all of his Peter Jenkins books. They weren't as good as the Millie books, relying a bit too much on magic to make things exciting -- Millie had shown in _Millie and the Pernicious Prefect_ she hadn't needed magic to have adventures -- but they'd been wonderful in their own way. She'd reread them all at least three times, and they were in second place on her list of comfort reads, after the Millie books.

"Thank you," Conrad said, under his breath to her as Christopher opened _Millie and the French Tutor's Secret_ to a random page and began to read a few paragraphs in a loud, sarcastic way which meant he thought this was an amazing gift and was rather put out that Millie hadn't asked him to chip in for it.

Later, long after Gabriel and the other older residents of the Castle had gone to bed, and a short while after Christopher had brought out the alcohol he'd smuggled in from Series Two on his last trip with Mordecai, Millie stretched out on the grass and laughed a little. The alcohol left her feeling warm and content, and more than a little sleepy.

Next to her, Conrad was propped against a tree, idly spinning an empty bottle round and round. Christopher was sound asleep, using Conrad's knee as a rather bony pillow. If Millie listened closely, she could hear a faint whistling coming from Christopher's lips, a lingering after-effect of a recent cold.

"Wish I could have thrown a party for you and Christopher, one this amazing," Conrad said after a moment of silence. "Makes me feel a bit selfish."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Millie, shaking her head. "Christopher gets enough attention as the next Chrestomanci, no need to puff him up more. And I wouldn't know what to do with another party! The birthday parties the Castle throws are bad enough."

"Bad enough?" Conrad echoed, laughing. "Don't tell me you've secretly hated your birthday all this time!"

"Well, it's not my birthday, not really. No one celebrates that sort of thing on my world, and even if we did, the Living Goddess wouldn't have had one," Millie explained. She shrugged. "Gabriel decided we'd celebrate it on the day I came to Series 12, as a birthday-anniversary day. I've never seen the point of them, though. I mean, yes, you've lived another year, well done you. What's the _point_?"

"I think it is the 'you've lived another year, well done you' concept," Conrad said. He sounded like he was trying very hard not to snicker at her. "Also, presents."

"Presents!" Millie snorted. "They're lovely, I suppose. But it's always so awkward if someone gives you a terrible present. Remember when that sorcerer from Series One was visiting during Christopher's birthday, and gave him that awful--"

Conrad laughed loudly, and then quickly muffled the sound with his fist. "Who could forget? Christopher's face..." Conrad smiled fondly down at Christopher, who still snored quietly against his knee. "Do you have any idea what he's got me as a going-away present?" he asked. "There wasn't a present with all the others, and every time I ask him about it, he goes all smug and pleased with himself at me."

"I'm not telling," Millie said in singsong. "Christopher would sulk for ages." She beamed at him. "It's brilliant though," she confided. "Wish I could see your face when you get it."

"Go ahead, tell him," Christopher said sleepily.

She jumped, rather. When she looked at Christopher, his face was half-hidden by shadow. All she could see was his smile, a self-satisfied, anticipatory look. "Are you certain?" she asked.

"I want to see his expression too," Christopher explained and lifted his head to look at Conrad.

"All right," Millie said. "You've heard of _The Luckiest Girl in the World_?"

"The upcoming Fay Marley film?" Conrad said, looking puzzled. "Of course. I've kept up with her career, you know that."

Millie took a breath. "Well, if you want it, you've got an audition for a role."

"An _audition_?" Conrad stared at them both like they'd both gone off their heads. "You're joking. How could you swing that?"

"Future Chrestomanci, remember?" Christopher said.

Millie rolled her eyes. "Christopher asked Fay to get you the audition," she said. "She was happy to do it. If you get the role--"

"Once," Christopher corrected.

"It's only a few speaking lines," Millie continued, ignoring him. She thought Conrad would get the role, but there was no reason to put further pressure on him. He'd be nervous enough, auditioning for the first time.

"That's--" Conrad stopped, speechless.

"Brilliant?" Christopher suggested.

"An amazing opportunity?" Millie added, smiling.

"Perfect," Conrad said, and laughed up at the starlit sky.

**  
**

 _I have this whole new family and I'm in love with each of them  
And I'm on this list called lucky whenever I'm in reach of them_

Millie found Janet awash in tears a week after the battle in the garden.

She'd been expecting this sort of thing. Janet might have proclaimed to all and sundry that she was fine and happy in this world filled to the brim with magic, but she'd had a mother and a father and a whole world that Cat and the other children only knew about from books. Homesickness was inevitable.

"Come here, darling," she said, and gathered Janet into her arms. "Just let it all out."

Janet sobbed and muttered incoherently into Millie’s shoulder for a while. At last, the crying ebbed and she lifted her tear-stained face towards Millie. “How do you _stand_ it?” she demanded.

“Stand what, exactly, my dear?” Millie asked.

“This world,” Janet said. She sniffled. “Oh, magic’s brilliant, even if it seems like I’m the only one in the castle without any, but some things are driving me half-mad! Back h-home,” and her voice wobbled slightly on the world, “women could wear trousers and no one would bat an eye. Here, I’m stuck in petticoats and dresses and they catch on _everything_.”

“Yes, unfortunately you’d give the vicar a heart attack, wearing trousers to church,” Millie said, although she thought trousers were only the tip of the iceberg for Janet’s misery. “It’d cause quite a scandal.”

“More of a scandal than Gwendolen’s trick with the glass?” Janet muttered darkly.

Millie felt her lips twitch against her will, and firmly dismissed the impulse to smile. The village would be gossiping about Gwendolen’s antics for years to come. Then she thought of how some of the older generation would react to Janet marching into church wearing trousers, and shook her head. “I’m afraid that in much of the village’s eyes, it might actually be worse.”

When Janet’s face fell, Millie wiped a tear from Janet’s flushed cheek. “How about this? I shall speak to Christopher about you wearing trousers around the Castle.”

“Could you?” Janet said gratefully. “It’s so much trouble, trying to get into the new tree house Roger and Julia built—I don’t know how Julia does it!”

“Julia has lived her whole life wearing dresses,” Millie pointed out. “You haven’t.”

Janet sighed and rested her head against Millie’s shoulder. After a moment, she said, voice muffled, “It isn’t that I don’t _like_ it here. I do. I would miss Cat and Roger and Julia and everyone horribly, but….”

“But sometimes you miss what you knew,” Millie said gently. “You have to learn new rules and adjust to new ways, and it’s difficult.” She stroked Janet’s hair and recalled her first few years in 12A as she got used to many things: curious looks; offensive, suspicious questions about where she’d come from; and all the strange, often contradictory rules.

A memory surfaced then, of her first attempts to speak to this world’s god. She’d learned, with a shock that had gone through her like a lightning bolt, that he was a distant and mostly disinterested one, more engaged with the music of the spheres and the rest of the universe than with this world. She’d missed Asheth then, with a fierce ache in her chest that had doubled her over and left her homesick and hot-eyed with resentment. Asheth might have been callous and vengeful and unforgiving, but at least She’d been _present_. You’d known Asheth was there, observing the world and Her people.

Mille gazed over Janet’s head, into the distance, and remembered the feel of silver bracelets heavy on her wrist, how she had known her place and purpose in the world. She hadn’t known then that many of Asheth’s apparent gifts had come from Millie’s own powers, her gift as an enchantress untapped and unknown. Things had seemed (and sometimes been) much simpler then.

“Yes,” Janet whispered. “And people keep _looking_ at you when you don’t know something obvious, like the name of the current king.”

Millie sighed, hearing the misery in Janet’s voice and wishing she could banish it with a wave of her hand. She’d been the incarnation of a goddess once. Sometimes, when she saw people looking at her and dismissing her as one of Christopher’s servants, she wanted to shout it at them. She had been the Living Goddess of Asheth, revered and sometimes feared, and you foolish people think I am his plump, exotic servant? But this, Millie knew, was not ‘diplomatic,’ and so she kept a smile on her face and laughed as though it was all simply a humorous mistake rather than an insult.

“You make compromises you never thought you’d have to make, and learn to live with them,” she said quietly. She smiled and looked out the window, across the Castle grounds. Roger was bent over his latest invention, showing Cat and waving his arms about. Julia was leaning over Roger’s shoulder, making pointed remarks about some design flaw, if Millie judged Roger’s darkening look correctly. “And sometimes… sometimes you are rewarded in unexpected ways.”

“Thank you for listening,” Janet said, pulling away and managing a wobbly smile. “It’s nice to have someone actually _understand_. Cat just sort of stared at me when I tried to explain.”

“Anytime you need to talk, I’m here to listen,” Millie assured her. She patted Janet gently on the cheek and nodded as Janet straightened and looked a bit less miserable. “You’ll adjust, dear. It simply takes time.”

**Author's Note:**

> All of the epigrams come from various Ani DiFranco's songs. The first one is from "Talk to Me Now," the second from "Here for Now," and the third from "Educated Guess."


End file.
